The Class Clown
By the end of first grade, it was clear to me I was not destined to be the pretty one, the smart one or the jock. At the age of three I ran onto the hot sand for my first day at the beach, and 6 hours later, left looking like the sun had sneezed on me. Freckles. Billions of freckles. They never went away. My report card was a reflection of my moods rather than my intellectual strengths, and middle school revealed a flamingo-type physique unfit for speed or agility. Instead, I found a classmate who belly laughed at my antics. I was hooked, and the class clown was born.
Upon entering our 7th grade English class, we spotted an apple on the teacher’s desk.
I smiled and looked at Laura.
Immediately, we understood the assignment. Five minutes later Ms. Tigerman entered to find a bite-sized chunk of the apple missing.
As I grew up, fellow pranksters and comedians found me. My best friend, Laura, was equally my cheerleader and nemesis as she loved to send me on a task which would inevitably result in a detention. One look from her and I became a goofball. There was no “truth or dare,” only dare. Bottom line, life is hard, but with fun friends by your side you can soften the edges with laughter.